


A Trick of the Light

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Post-Sirius in Azkaban, mating for life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:58:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5924131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young man's Lupercalia gift brings light out of the darkness</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trick of the Light

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

A Trick of the Light

A graven effigy. That’s what he looks like. The pasty-yellow candlelight brings no color to the thin, worn face. His breathing is so slow as to be almost unnoticeable. Except when the pain rises from the depths of his convulsing, abused body and his breath twists into long, wretched moans impervious to comfort. It hurts to be so helpless in the face of such need. I sit by the bed and watch and wait and prevent him from choking to death on his own tongue. I bite my lips bloody to stifle my screams. 

The candles’ feeble glow cannot chase away the shadows as I keep my vigil. We need light. Real light. Glorious, healing sunlight to thwart the dark demons of torture. Silvery, ethereal nightglow to soothe the hurt with the balm of a million stars. But, here in the quiet Hospital at Hogwarts, everything is dim and shadowy. We need the sun and the stars…

I sit bolt upright in my chair with a sudden revelation. I can Apparate home and bring back the Light Globe. I wonder if it still works, if that thoughtful bit of whimsy still contains the magic created in it by an exuberant, black-haired child of the stars so many years ago. It had brought me joy, not only for its beauty. And not only for the care and skill that went into making what was presented to me so casually, as a rather haphazard gift. But, joy because it was the first gift he gave me that symbolized our feelings for each other, on the night when we finally admitted we were in love. 

The spells on the globe had never been reinforced. It might be a mistake to rush home to dig this out of the warren of my desk. I might end up bringing back an apple-sized ball of crystal that can’t even serve as a paperweight. But, I might return carrying a talisman of our love, as constant as the North Star. I remember when he gave it to me…

_It had been cloudy and dark for weeks. A dreary, dank fog settled over Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays, smothering the sun. It clung to our hearts and minds the way a sodden cloak hangs heavy on the shoulders. The gloom was overpowering, pervasive. I felt even worse because I had admitted to myself that I was in love with Sirius. And I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. Sometimes, I thought he knew. Sometimes I fancied I saw a reciprocal attraction in his eyes, those orbs of tinseled smoke. And, then I was sure I was mistaken. It was just a trick of the light or the shadows reflected in his gaze. My inability to confront him dragged me deeper in the murk. To add to my misery, Sirius had been sneaking off at odd hours lately, refusing to tell any of us what he was up to, or who he was seeing. And to top it off, Thursday was Valentine’s Day and the school was throwing a party to celebrate on the following night._

Thursday was awful, full of cards and magic messages and singing bouquets, many of which were sent to Sirius. He smiled at some of them with genuine pleasure. I hated to see it, and I despised myself for feeling that way. Friday was almost as bad, filled as it was with the anticipation of the party. Although Sirius had been close-mouthed about whether or not he was taking a date, I knew I couldn’t bear the thought of watching him with someone else. So I remained behind, despite my friends’ cajoling. Once they left for the festivities, I flopped on my bed and curled into a cocoon of self-pity. Not long after, I heard our door open and softly close. Footsteps approached my bed.

“Remus?”

It was he.

“Remus? Can I talk to you?”

‘You’re already talking to me, you git,’ I thought sourly. With an effort I turned to face him, trying unsuccessfully to hide my blue mood. “What is it, Sirius?”

He had shucked off his robes and stood there in black boots, black denim pants. A simple snow-white shirt with the top two buttons open and his cuffs undone and rolled back onto his forearms. Understated. Casually elegant. And absolutely breathtaking.

“I have something for you. I wanted to give it to you at the party, but since you decided to be a lumping great wanker and sit here all alone, you forced me to change my plans.”

Out of thin air, it seemed, a sloppily wrapped box appeared in his hands. It was definitely from him. I never understood how someone with his sense of style, his elegant script, his ability to use a wand with surgical precision, could be so abysmally inept at wrapping presents. He sat on the edge of my bed, a certain bashfulness in his manner, and handed me the gift. I frowned slightly in my attempt to quell the mad, fluttering butterflies in my stomach. Could this mean…?

Tentatively I unwrapped the package to reveal a solid crystal ball that fit neatly into the palm of my hand. I gazed questioningly at him.

“It’s a Light Globe,“ he said, smiling shyly at me. “You’ve been so depressed lately. I thought this might help.”

My eyes and mouth rounded with surprise. “Where did you get this?” Light Globes were not easy to come by, except at one rather exclusive store I could think of in Diagon Alley.

He grinned, knowing exactly what I was thinking. “Oh, it’s not like those fancy ones filled with dancing planets and singing comets and moons with jeweled faces. You know the ones I mean. The ones they sell at that store…what’s the name of it? The store for people with more money than brains?” He shrugged, his expression now a fetching combination of sheepishness and pride. “I made it. I asked my mum to send me a pure crystal ball, and then I did some research and figured out how to capture a bit of light inside of it. That’s all.” 

He took the globe from me. Then he extinguished the candles, plunging the room in night. Sirius’ disembodied voice commanded, “Lux Solaris.” Roiling waves of liquid fire swirled through the crystal. The ball glowed with the power of the sun. Bright, golden rays sprang from the palm of Sirius’ hand, burnishing everything in the room. Pointing his wand at the globe, he said, “Levitatum.” The ball rose into the air and Sirius guided it up to a corner of the ceiling.

The light wrapped around us, gave sustenance to our sun-starved bodies and minds. I felt the soothing warmth of a summer day on my face as I stared up into the spinning depths of the ball. My eyes saw clearer, as if a scrim of darkness had been lifted. Somewhat abashed I started to thank him. He cut off my words. “Wait. There’s more.” Again pointing his wand at the heavenly orb, he said, “Lux Stellans.”

Instantly the globe switched to a pale, silvery-blue light, bathing the room with the ghostly, pure tears of the stars. Constellations spun slowly through the crystal like diamond dust. With my mouth hanging open, I looked at Sirius, wondering how I could ever thank him. This ball was not a simple conjuring trick, a childish trinket. It was sophisticated magic. And he had made this wondrous gift for me. 

“Is this why you’ve been slipping off without telling us what you were doing?!” I was amazed I still had the power of speech.

He just smiled, leaning back on his hands watching the globe. The light limned his features and lent a sheen to his hair that somehow made it blacker than black. But, his eyes…his eyes glimmered with an astral radiance that equaled the star shower above us. He was a fey creature of the night, mysterious and powerful and timelessly beautiful. 

Brushing aside my stuttered thanks, he looked at me and murmured, “There’s no moon. I know you prefer moonless nights.”

Finally regaining control of my vocal chords I said, “This is the first Valentine’s Day present I’ve ever gotten.”

Somehow, unbeknownst to me, we had shifted to sit close to each other. 

“Who says it’s a Valentine’s Day present?”

I was sure he saw me flush bright red with embarrassment for jumping to conclusions. “Oh…um…I just thought…”

“If it was for Valentine’s Day, I would have given it to you yesterday.” His eyes impaled me with shards of lightning and flashes of ice. And his voice, clothed in smoke, ran down my spine. “It’s a Lupercalia present.”

And we were suddenly so close we breathed the same air. I struggled to keep myself steady. Surely he sensed the flash-fire of hunger and possessiveness howling inside me.

“You know what Lupercalia is, don’t you Sirius?” I murmured raggedly. “You know what it means to the wolf?”

Nodding, he slowly leaned forward until his lips brushed mine with the barest whisper of a kiss. My fingers flew to his face, tracing his skin while he sat motionless, accepting my touch. My hands slid into his glorious, star-drenched hair and I pulled him towards me until our lips met again. We kissed gently, hesitantly, until eventually his arms wrapped around me and he held me tight against his body. And the fire burst forth and consumed us.

The starry light gilded our flesh as we found in each other what we had both sought all our lives. That night I found my love and my mate. And I discovered the deepest and most mysterious meaning of magic...

I decide to get the Globe, once Sirius recovers sufficiently to appreciate it. I can’t bear to leave him now, not when he’s still locked inside his unconscious mind, wandering alone down wretchedly cold dark hallways, surrounded by the sounds of his silent screams. I see the pain in his face, in the spasms contorting his muscles. I can’t leave him now. 

The only interruptions are Madame Pomfrey’s visits to medicate him with wand or potion, and Harry’s trips before, between and after classes. Harry has little of the carefree, optimistic outlook James had had at this age. I find it disconcerting to look at his 15-year-old face and see Lily’s eyes, the troubled eyes she had in the months leading up to her death. Harry’s losses have already robbed him of so much in his young life. I see how he dreads losing his godfather, too. Although he tries not to show it, I know he doesn’t quite believe us when we tell him Sirius will recover from his torture at Wormtail’s hands. 

Together we struggle through the long days and help Madame Pomfrey where we can. We console each other with the thought that now, with Wormtail in custody and clear evidence of his crimes in the hands of those we can trust, that now, finally Sirius will be freed. I only wish I could banish my mate’s pain. I see it maul him, even in the depths of his unconsciousness. I lived through this once before, when he fell into the hands of hurt and darkness, the baleful twins that have recaptured him. 

_It was very early, just after dawn, although the overcast sky made it seem earlier. I woke suddenly in that gloom and was instantly alert. I grabbed my wand, listening. Faint sounds came from the direction of the front door of the flat. Cautiously I slid out of bed, wondering who had gotten past the protective wards. Any of the few people who knew how to pass through would have called out to alert me of their presence._

I crept to the bedroom door, hearing several unsteady, stumbling steps, followed by the thud of something large hitting the floor. A man groaned. 

Leaping forward, I saw my lover lying in a heap. “Sirius! What happened?”

The barely conscious man on the floor floundered to get away from me, his hand blindly groping for his wand to defend himself. The look on his face chilled me to the bone. His eyes were wide and dark and he didn’t recognize me. Or, if he did, he thought I was an enemy. I pushed his hand away and grasped him firmly by the shoulders. He was soaked to the skin. “Sirius, it’s me. It’s alright now. You’re safe. You’re home.”

I tried to help him to sit upright, but stopped at his sudden shriek of pain. “Oh, my God,” I whined, trying to stifle the panic that threatened me as Sirius slumped over, unconscious. I tore open his shirt looking for injuries but saw none. Suddenly, Sirius gasped and his body began to convulse uncontrollably, his arms and legs flailing against the floor.

I ran to the fireplace and threw some powder in. “James! Lily! Come quick! Sirius is back and he’s hurt! Bad!” I flew back to Sirius, who now lay still and pale and deathly cold. His breath came in unearthly moans that made my hair stand on end.

And so began a hellish week of nursing a man who had endured bouts of severe torture. Even with the help of a healer, the burden fell mostly on me. Caring for him was not the problem. Rather, it was the pain of seeing my beloved writhing in agony, lost in a fevered wasteland that wracked him in torment; in spite of the potions I fed him. They brought him no comfort or relief. My helplessness in the face of his suffering was a bitter pill to swallow.

And through it all, those eyes speared me. Glazed with fever or fiery bright with pain. Sparking in a silent accusation that I didn’t understand, as if he blamed me for his near-fatal encounter with the Death Eaters. 

One late afternoon, as dusk crept closer, I softly entered the bedroom. Sirius was awake, but flattened by the exhaustion of recovery. I smiled with relief as I stroked his tangled hair off his face. We talked. Or, rather, I talked, and soothed and questioned him about hunger, thirst, and comfort. I helped him to sit up, propping him against a mountain of pillows, pleased that he was able to eat a light meal. 

Afterwards, Sirius leaned back into the pillows, a shadow of anguish flitting across his face. “It’s so dark, Remus.”

And, indeed, our candles didn’t do much to chase away the early evening gloom of mid-winter. Inspiration struck me. I flung open the closet and tunneled through the clothes and cartons and hidden detritus of our existence. Finally, at the bottom of a box, my hand closed around the solid crystal globe. Pulling it out of its protective wrappings, I returned to him, an imbecile grin on my face.

“Maybe this will help.” I grabbed my wand as I tossed it into the air. “Lux Solaris,” I chanted. Golden light flooded the room. I positioned the Globe neatly above the window. My mood soared, buoyed by the radiant light and the knowledge that my mate was recovering. “I’m such a dolt. Lupercalia was four days ago. I should have thought to dig this out. Maybe the light would have helped you…”

My words died uncertainly on my lips as I turned to him. His face was hidden in his hands. The light is too bright for his eyes, I thought, immediately changing the sun shower to the gentler mist of the stars. But, then I caught the sound of his uneven breathing. My heart lurched as I realized he wept. 

I sat next to him, drawing him gently into my arms. I was at a loss. Sirius had only ever cried four or five times since I’d known him, and in most of those instances – the Potters’ wedding, our bonding, Harry’s birth - they were tears of joy. 

I tried vainly to comfort him, shield him from whatever hidden force distressed him. “Shhh,” I murmured into his hair, my hands caressing him soothingly. “It’s alright. You’re safe here. You’re healing. No one will hurt you.” I whispered and stroked his body, gentling him as if he were a frightened child. Gradually, the trembling in his limbs lessened and he quieted, his face still hidden against my chest. 

“Let me go make you some tea,” I said as I attempted to untangle myself from him and rise from the bed. 

“Don’t go! Please, Remus! Don’t leave me!”

And, tea forgotten, I scooped him into my arms again. The stark despair in his voice tore my heart...

Of course, at the time, I didn’t understand his words. He hadn’t meant, “Don’t go into the kitchen and leave me here alone.” He had meant, “Don’t join Voldemort. Don’t go to the Dark side. Don’t leave me behind to mourn for you.” Sirius knew the only reason this mission had gone so wrong was because someone in our midst had betrayed us. And the only people in the room ironing out the final details had been James, Lily, Sirius, Patrick Glynn, and Ellen Upchurch. And me. Patrick and Ellen were killed. Sirius had been captured and tortured, and only the presence of a lax guard had allowed his escape. But, from that point on, his nebulous suspicions crystallized. He knew I was the traitor.

It wasn’t until years later that we remembered Peter had shown up briefly at the meeting to deliver some information. Then he had left. But, he must have transformed. Wormtail must have slipped back into the room, huddling unseen while he listened to our plans and plotted our destruction. His treachery knew no bounds. Now, he will pay dearly, but he can never suffer enough to satisfy my cold, infinite anger. When I think of all the people he hurt, I want him to feast on anguish and choke on desolation. It frightens me, but I know there is no point at which I would look at his agony and say, “Enough.”

The swish of movement from the bed interrupts my tormented, vengeful thoughts. Sirius stirs in his sleep. It’s been nearly a week and his pain has subsided. He draws in a deep breath and sighs, with a trace of a smile playing about his lips. I run my fingers across them and his smile deepens, though his eyes remain closed. I lean forward to kiss him gently. I sit up abruptly when I hear the door open behind me. 

Madame Pomfrey bustles in, with the hint of a smile on her face, too. She says not a word, although I’m sure I see a gleam of amusement in the brief glance she throws my way. Well, she is nothing if not discrete. She checks his vital signs, and at her nod, I move to help her administer several potions. 

Finally she straightens and looks at me. “I expect he will regain consciousness within the next 24 hours. He’ll be dizzy and weak and achy for a few more days, but that should be the end of it.”

I smile my thanks, luxuriating in the sweet feeling of relief that threatens to swamp me. Later, like every other night since we brought him here, I go through my bed time charade. I close the door to the room and rumple the covers on my bed. Then, I slip under the blankets to sleep with him. I doubt that I’ve fooled Madame Pomfrey for even a moment.

The next day, I bolt down breakfast and head for the gates of the school. Once there, I’ll Apparate home and back. It’s rather a long distance, but I can do it in several stages. I cross my fingers, hoping the Globe still retains its power.

I return in mid-afternoon with the cool, hard weight of the Globe cradled in my hand. When I get to Sirius’ sick room, he’s gone. The bed is neatly made and there is no sign of him, except for the sound of mumbled, half-hearted swearing from the adjacent bathroom. I enter and there he is, naked, fresh from a bath, and teetering precariously on a stool as he attempts to pull on a clean pair of pajama bottoms. 

“Need some help with those?” I ask with a mixture of affection and concerned amusement.

He looks up at me, exhaustion and pain stamped into the bones of his face. But his eyes are clear and they crinkle with his smile. “Yes, please...How embarrassing to lose a battle with one’s clothing.”

I stride over to him and tug the pants up as he stands. He sways rather alarmingly and I quickly slide an arm around him to steady him. I make short work getting the pajama top on and buttoned and he leans heavily on me as I help him back to bed. He sighs, propped up on pillows against the headboard. “It feels so good to be clean. Clean body, clean sheets, clean pajamas…” His eyelids half close like a contented cat. After living for years in the filth of Azkaban, I know how much he appreciates simple things like soap and water. 

Madame Pomfrey bustles in with a tray and stares archly at him. “Well, Mr. Black, I’m surprised you made it back to bed without falling on your face.” 

He shrugs ruefully. “I had help.”

Her lips twitch as she tries unsuccessfully to hide her smile. Turning to me she asks, “Is he always such a stubborn patient? He was awake no more than 10 minutes, barely had a clue as to where he was, and insisted on tottering out of bed to take a bath.”

“I’ve been wallowing in my own sweat for days. I know it, so don’t even try to convince me otherwise,” Sirius interjected mildly.

I grinned. “Yes, he’s a stubborn patient, once he’s on the mend. If you want him to stay in bed you’ll probably have to body-bind him.”

“Well, I’ll deal with that later. In the meantime, I’ve brought you some food. If you can handle this, you can have a bigger meal at dinner.” She settles the tray across his lap and leaves us.

He immediately offers to share with me, as if I haven’t had the benefit of three square meals a day. I decline, although his generous spirit touches me. I catch him up on the news while he eats. 

Afterwards, we recline together on the bed. His head rests on my shoulder. The small room gets gloomier as the clock moves toward dusk. Slipping my hand into the pocket of my robe, I pull out the Light Globe.

“Let’s see if this will brighten things up, shall we?” I command it to rise and pour its light down upon us. It blazes to life like the first sun on the first dawn at the beginning of time. Glancing at my lover, I see surprised delight on his face. His eyes glow like opals. 

“I can’t believe it still works!” He’s pleasantly shocked.

“Why wouldn’t it work? It was created by an imaginative and powerful wizard.”

He snorts. “This wouldn’t be the same powerful wizard who had trouble pulling on his pajamas a while ago, would it?”

“The very same.” I tilt my head to kiss him. “He’s having a bit of an off day, but he’ll get better.”

We sit silently for a while, watching the globe spin lazily, tossing off casual sun showers. 

“Remus, what day is it?”

Somehow I know where he’s going with this. I nuzzle my cheek against his soft, clean hair as a grin breaks over my face. “It’s February 17th. We’ve missed Lupercalia again.”

He turns in the circle of my arms to look at me. “Do you still **want** me as your mate?”

“Yes. Always.” We kiss languorously. I’ll never tire of his taste.

He pulls away. “Despite my knack for turning into some sort of Death Eater chew toy?”

“Yes. Always.” I tenderly assault his mouth again, reveling in the feel of his lips.

He won’t shut up. “Even though it makes me annoyingly high maintenance?”

“Yes. Always.” I kiss him again, longer, deeper, silencing his words and stealing his breath.

I decide to turn the tables on him. “Do you still want **me** Sirius?” I say it teasingly because I know the answer. But, his reply is from the depths of his fiercely loyal heart. 

“I need you more than want you. And I want you for all time.” He caresses my soul.

“I love you,” we whisper at the same time. I flick my wand at the Globe and call down the light of the stars to bathe us in silver as we lay quietly together, hearing only the music of each other’s hearts. 

“Remus?” His voice is a warm, light zephyr.

“Mmmm?” 

“We need to tell Harry about us.”

There is a knock on the door. We move apart and I call out a welcome. The door opens and it’s Harry standing there. He beams when he sees Sirius awake and upright. He darts in, pausing only to cast a curious glance at the Globe. I switch it back to solar to brighten up the room. 

Harry is intrigued. “What is that?”

“Sit down, Harry.” Sirius pats the bed next to him. He looks at me, his expression radiant with the love he feels for both of us. “That Globe is very special to us. We’ll tell you about it. And about light and shadow. About Moony and Padfoot. About loneliness and love.”

“Get comfortable, Harry,” I grin. “This is going to take a while.”

END


End file.
